Confession
by DarkAngelLillith
Summary: Prowl looks back on the events of Salvation while trying to decide what to do with a certain Special Ops officer


**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**A/N: **This was supposed to be Prowl's POV of the fic Salvation. Unfortunately, Prowl said he wasn't going through that again, but he was willing to do something else. Like always, tell me of any mistakes and I'll fix them as soon as possible. Tell me what you think.

/comm/

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_**Confession**_

Now that Prowl was out of danger and he had finally caught up on his work, he could take as much time as he needed to go over what had happened three weeks earlier. Realizing how the Seekers had found them and devising a strategy to stop it from happening again was simple. So simple in fact that the Datsun felt like smacking his helmet on the wall a few times for not seeing such an obvious oversight.

Figuring out the Decepticons was the easy part. Prowl was so used to figuring them out and coming with ways to stop them that it was almost second nature for him to do so. What had his logic circuits tangled up was something else, or rather someone else.

Jazz.

Before that day happened, Jazz treated him no different than any other mech. They were friends. In fact, Prowl had grown to consider him his best friend. But Jazz was friendly with everyone, so Prowl never once questioned what he was to the saboteur. After that day, Jazz started behaving differently and Prowl wasn't sure what it could mean. He knew that whatever had occurred to change the saboteur's disposition towards him had to have happened during their stay in that forest.

The tactician didn't remember much of it. He and Jazz had been cruising along. There was no one else on the streets and Jazz had been trying to convince him to race with him. That wasn't something new and, like always, Prowl refused. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy a good race now and then, but what kind of example would he give if he got caught breaking the human laws? He remembered that Jazz had still somehow convinced him to race when something hit him on the side.

He only had time to transform when one of their missiles got him again. There was pain, but that was to be expected. You either learned to ignore it and override it or offlined. He had gotten back on his feet, when he got hit again. Which Seeker had it been? Prowl would bet his spark it had been Thundercracker, but the Datsun wasn't completely sure. The first hit had disoriented him and he'd lost consciousness after that.

When he onlined they were in a forest. Jazz had been the first thing he saw. He'd seemed worried. Something the saboteur had tried to hide with a joke, but Prowl couldn't remember what it was. There had been an odd pressure on his fuel tank. He did a systems check only to find that his injuries had been patched up in an efficient yet crude manner and that the pressure in his tank was increasing dangerously.

Up until that day Prowl had never gagged, dry heaved or purged. They were all alien concepts of something that he'd heard and read, but was so rare that he'd never experienced it. The tactician wished to never again have the privilege to experience the agony he felt when the valve broke and the half processed energon broke free, burning everything as it made its way out of his body.

Prowl knew pain. All of them did, but the pain of being burned from the inside was excruciating. There was no way to turn it off like they did armor and superficial damage. There had been warnings all over the place, making the pain worse as parts stopped working or had to be forced to work. He had watched as his energy levels dropped down and wondered if it'll stop before it reached zero.

There had been no torture as bad as Jazz's continued _'feedings' _until they found something he could keep down temporarily. He would never admit to anyone that he'd wished his energy levels would deplete so he wouldn't had to purge one more time.

And through it all there was Jazz. Talking to him of everything. What he thought of everyone the first time he met them. What he'd do next week. What kind of songs he thought Prowl would like. What Ratchet would do to them when they got to the Ark.

Jazz's voice was comforting. The saboteur had a musical lilt to his voice that somehow managed to get through his pain-filled processor. His touch was as comforting as his voice. Jazz's hands on his door wings and around him as the saboteur helped him sustain his weight diverted his attention from the pain and the increasing pressure on his tank. Prowl had little hope of getting out of there alive. The odds were not in his favor and he knew it too well, but for Jazz he would try.

In a way Soundwave's cassettes had helped him realize some truths he'd been denying even to his own processor. Jazz's cry of pain as one of the flying pests had dared to hit him had sobered the tactician. Jazz should've left him, but instead the saboteur had tried to protect him.

Prowl's battle computer had showed him what the best course of action would be. It had used too much energy, but he couldn't let Jazz get hurt. And he was proud to know that, despite the pain, his aim had been true and had sent Laserbeak running back to his host. Too much energy had been spent and he vaguely remembered the ground. The mounting pressure returned, threatening to start the purging again. Jazz's second cry of pain had made the tactician look up to see the Porsche's arm leaking badly and Buzzsaw going in to continue his attack.

Prowl knew that out of the two of them, Jazz had more chances of surviving. Besides, would he really want to live knowing his friend had died for him? He watched as the out of focus Jazz fired at the mechanical bird and missed. The answer to his question was no. And that was the moment Prowl realized the extent of his feelings towards the other black and white.

Prowl's missiles hit Buzzsaw and the rising feeling of energon had subsided due to the amount of energy used. Too much lost. Too much used. Almost nothing to empty now. But if he offlined now, then at least Jazz was safe.

There had been something on his door wings. Something that made the out of focus image of Jazz look at him with horror. There had been pain on his back, but it had been merely an annoying twitch compared to how his insides hurt. He'd been out of it before the explosion took Jazz out.

The next time he onlined he was in the medbay and had spent two very boring days before Ratchet finally released him. Those two days were spent analyzing his own feelings towards his best friend. By the time the tactician was released he was able to admit to himself that he loved Jazz.

Seeing him the next morning had been a welcome surprise. Jazz was up early and looking as if he just got out of the wash racks. Not that Prowl was complaining. And neither did he complain when the saboteur clung to him for the day.

But now, the Porsche's attentions were beginning to get to him. Jazz had stopped treating him like he treated all his other friends. The Special Ops officer had started bringing him energon cubes whenever he stayed too long in his office. Had offered his services as a secretary if it would help Prowl finish early so the tactician could accompany later to play some game with him… or hear some music… or just go for a drive because he thought the tactician would enjoy the stars. It confused him. Teased him with the idea that maybe Jazz felt the same.

Prowl looked at the energon cube Jazz had left for him in his office before leaving for patrol. He could do something but, is he willing to risk losing Jazz's friendship?

As if hearing an unnamed prayer, the answer to his question came as Jazz sent him a private comm.

/Hey, Prowler!/

/It's Prowl. Are you not supposed to be in the middle of patrol right now?/

/Yeah. But I had this tiny littl' accident when som' animal got in the way an' I had t' avoid hittin' it./

/Are you okay? Where are you? I will be there with Ratchet./

/Hey, calm down, buddy! I'm fine. Just made it back after Blaster got someone t' take my place. Pride's broken though. That was definitely not one o' my best moments./

/Are you sure?/

/Yep! Just commed to tell ya I'd probably have the afternoon off. Maybe we can do somethin'… If you're not too busy. Or maybe I can help ya finish everythin' and then we can go do… stuff. Whatever ya wanna do./

/Are you sure you are okay, Jazz?/

/Yeah, I'm fine. So, what do you say, buddy?/

Prowl calmly went over all the possible scenarios. Before smiling softly, /Help me with the roster for next week's shifts and I will be able to accompany you in doing… stuff./

/Hey, not makin' fun o' me, Prowler. I'm not at my best here./

/My apologies to you, Jazz. And it's Prowl. Do you think you will be up for a race this afternoon?/

/Are you kiddin' me! No Ratchet in the world will stop me from racin' with ya. See ya in a few t' go over that roster. And that cube I left for ya better be empty, Prowler./

/I will be waiting in my office. And it's Prowl./

Their conversation over, Prowl allowed himself a full smile. He was going to risk it all with Jazz. After all, life was a risk game where he'd always held an advantage due to his battle computer. The odds were in his favor. Why should he hesitate now?

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Edited: 1/20/09


End file.
